


And Away We Go

by chrissy2



Category: Boys Town - Fandom, Brothers' Destiny (1995), The Road Home (1995)
Genre: (Aw, Boys Town as in the orphan town that kept siblings together, Could be a slash fic if you look at it that way, Hell, Other, Some passages of intense bullying, Three orphans reunite, it might become a slash fic later)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-16
Updated: 2017-10-17
Packaged: 2019-01-18 02:46:23
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,122
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12379278
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/chrissy2/pseuds/chrissy2
Summary: Clay decides to visit two old friends of his in the dream town he did not make it to.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I own nothing and I make no money off of this. 
> 
> Going for two or three chapters.
> 
> This film is my first memory of the world of film ever, watching it when I was probably six or seven. It means a lot to me and it honestly breaks my heart that a lot of the world doesn't know about its existence. If you have the time, you should look it up and watch it.
> 
> To give you a bit of historical context: Unfortunately, this is still practiced. In the early years of modern America, orphaned siblings were often separated. The younger the orphan, the more likely they were to be adopted. And if that young orphan had an older teenage sibling? That teenage sibling would more than likely stay at the orphanage until adult age and then not see their adopted sibling again. But in the mid-west, there was an orphan town called Girls And Boys Town, shortened to Boys Town, where orphaned siblings were kept together. If you wanted to adopt someone from there, you had to adopt them all. A lot of orphans would try to escape and run there.

**I**

Sure, it was a suspicious hour and they were all orphans, but what was it to them, anyhow?

Yes: They abducted the young son of a wealthy woman. John, was that boy's name, John Murphy. And the young man he  **willingly** ran away with was none other than his older brother, Michael Murphy. If anything, it was that bitch that was the kidnapper: These old, bored wealthy fucks waltzing into orphanages and separating siblings with just the wave of their hand, thinking these kids are like the food that is served at their finely-laced tables minus the slaughter? Send the food back if they don't like it, waste it, then replace it?

Fuck off. That was blood they were taking away from these kids. That was the only family they had left in this godforsaken world. Losing their folks just wasn't enough. It was a natural law, goddamnit. It's about having good morals. It's about having common sense. Any good person agrees that siblings should stay together, right? 

 

**II**

_No food allowed in the dorm._

_Huh?_

_And don't ever let the Sisters catch you smoking._

The new orphans just obediently nod. They were probably just too tired and overwhelmed to fight back.

_Name's Clay. Clay Barry. I'm in charge of things around here._

_We didn't know._

 

**III**

_Father Flanagan?_

_Yes, I'm Father Flanagan. We've been waiting for you boys for a very long time. You must be all worn out. That boy on your back must be awfully heavy._

**_"He ain't heavy, Father; he's my brother."_ **

The famous words from the older Murphy brother spread like a bittersweet plague, making the whole nation stop and think, 'Hey, maybe there's still some hope in this world after all.'

When Clay heard what really happened, he couldn't believe it: The rich old bat had a change of heart and let the brothers finish their journey into to Boys Town? When did the world become a bleeding heart?

Not that it was a bad thing.

 

**IV**

_You got any left?_

_We only got two each._

_I don't like molasses, anyway. You kin?_

_Yeah, I'm Michael Murphy, and this is John._

_How long you been orphans?_

_What's that?_

_You know,_ _when'd you lose your folks?_

_Yesterday._

_Father said they were in heaven now._

_Sure._

 

**V**

Michael, when Clay first met him - he thought he was just so pathetic. And John was even more pathetic. He **had** to help him get to his brother. He  **had** to help them escape to Boys Town; at least to get a head start. They needed all the help they could get. Running up to the Sister and arguing with her day in and day out,  _No, I wanna see my brother **now,**_ twenty-four seven, demanding to know where John was, was not going to do shit. 

Clay hated how pathetic he was, watching him work so hard for results and getting nothing.

He hated listening to him cry himself to sleep every night, looking down at the picture of his folks in the door of his pocket watch. The only photo he had of them since the fire.

It was like watching himself all those years ago; only he didn't have any siblings. His folks kicked the bucket before they could give him any; first his mother, then his father. He was pretty young upon arrival, and he was amazed that he managed to never get adopted. Maybe it was his ugly mug, or his poor background, or that he was an absolute fiend. When he first arrived at that orphanage, he was just as whiney as the Murphys; they all tend to be in the beginning. The older kids loved punching him and spitting on him, pinning him to the wall and watching him go red in the face as they choked him while reaching down to grasp his marbles. Laughed at him as he peed his pants from the fright. 

He had to fight back. He had to, or else he would've gotten killed one of these days, choked to death by the sick bottom feelers among his own kind, found in a puddle of his own piss. 

What hit the nail in the coffin were the tattle tells, the gossip hounds.  _You better keep your little'ns away from that one. He's a real sicko. I hear he likes 'em young, like Father so-and-so. I hear he likes to drink his own piss._ Not only did he become the nun's little troublemaker under false accusations, he was all the kids' personal jester. The orphan jester of orphans: No say, no way.

 

**VI**

That's why Michael's naivety really shook him. He was well over the age of total helplessness and boyhood timidity, a year or two shy of legally becoming a man, and yet he seemed to be caught in the middle: Not a boy, but still far from a man. He was a pretty good fighter, that was for sure - and Clay learned that the hard way, ha, ha! 

But Michael was directionless: He was a young man with a constantly-spinning compass in his hand, a mind dreaming a faraway dream and a big heart that clouded his logic at times.

 

**VII**

He could still remember that night like it was mere **hours** ago.

He remembered the cold, black air. He remember his heart pounding in his chest. You would think he would be unaffected by any and everything by that point. He remembered peering through the black gates. He remembered the texture of the iron. He remembered Michael standing next to him.

 _Okay, here it is,_ Clay started. His very breath wasting away in the cool air seemed to take its own form in the memory.

 _You sure this is gonna work?_ The naivety and need for reassurance is clear in Michael's voice and it just kills Clay. 

 _Yeah, it'll work._ One thing was for sure: Clay was a good actor. He had to be the one to keep their hopes as tough as those iron bars. _You know whatchu gotta do?_

Michael hastily nods, hesitantly, _Yeah_ , _I think so._

_Once we get to Omaha, we're all free._

_What'dyu mean 'we'?_

_I'm going with you. Look, I got a map, I found where Omaha was, and I brought'chu to your brother. I'm gonna go with you guys to Boys Town._

It didn't happen. Clay only made it as far as the train station, fighting off the cops so the brothers could make a run for it. A part of him knew he was not going to make it. If it was anyone that had to get there, it was those two boys.

 

**VIII**

Because Clay was still a youngster of the state, the sentence was short, and because of the bad publicity of the crime, the kidnapping of a wealthy woman's child, the orphanage gave him a time limit: He could stay there for a short while, but he had to leave soon, and quietly. He was to legally become a man within months, anyways. It was time for him to go.

Well, hell.

 

**IX**

_Okay, but what if it ain't real, Clay? Boys Town. What if it's just a dream?_

_I've waited a long time for a dream._


	2. Reunion

**I**

They say their prayers by their bedsides and Father turns off the lights, wishing everyone a good night and leaving. Once he closes the door behind him, Clay rolls over on his bed before he has any second thoughts. _Hey_ , _Murphy._

Michael pushes himself up and puts most of his weight onto an elbow, looking back at Clay, acknowledging him.

He wasn't going to apologize, but he had to say something. _Why didn't you say something to Father? You could have gotten me in a lot of trouble._

 _Don't worry about it,_ Michael insists.

The two share a gaze. They both understood.

 

**II**

Clay's feet dangled over the train's side, just a mere push to near death in a flowing river of hard gravel. He really didn't want to stay in that town any longer, and he didn't have enough dough for a blasted ticket, so it came to the good old chase and hop. Dusk descended quickly, and the wheels of the train felt slow and eternal.

He had only prayed to God a few times in his life, less then ten. He prayed as a boy, but then stopped when he lost his parents.

It took him years to do it again. Perhaps he prayed when he thought the bottom feelers were really going to kill him one day. Then, when Michael and John ran for it that one night, he prayed to whatever god that ruled this miserable world - with all his might - that the Murphys would make it, and that Boys Town was indeed real.

 

 **III**  

For the land of dreams, Omaha sure was empty. It took him ages to figure out where he was going. Everything was so apart and the directions were confusing; one wrong turn could send you miles off track.

 

**IV**

Just like the cool, black night at the cool, black gates, Clay found his heart hammering in his chest. The oh-so-familiar feeling came bubbling up, shortening his breaths; he felt like he was getting ready to steal something. 

_There it is._

The front lawn of Boys Town.

 

**V**

But it's funny how things work out: While lost, he managed to find work, and that lead him to finding places for rent. Things seemed to be looking up for the States. Slowly, but surely. It used to be near to impossible to find work. That's why so many runaway orphans kept coming back.

The first place he stayed at was occupied by at least four other co-workers, and he left for another job, another place in a flash. It reminded him too much of his days with bottom feelers.

After his first pay, he went out and bought a pack of cigarettes. It was the first time in his life he felt free to do so, without having to hide or worry about getting caught.

 

**VII**

Clay didn't expect the Murphys to still be there, but they were, and he didn't know if that made the bubbling in his stomach worse or not.

 

**VIII**

Clay's eyes then wonder down to an odd wrinkle at the breast of Michael's clothes. _You still got your clothes on under your night shirt._ He shakes his head. He would let them go through with it if he didn't care about the Murphys, let them face the disappointment on their own, but he did care, enough to not want to see them come crawling back in embarrassment, and also enough for it to hurt to tell them the truth. _Man, there ain't nowhere to go. I've tried._

_Yeah, there is: Omaha._

_Where's Omaha?_

_Who knows. But we're going there._

_You'll be back by breakfast._

 

**IX**

As it turned out, Clay didn't have to look far. The Murphys were outside with an entire group of boys, playing slow pitch. He stood there thinking of how long it had been since he himself had played catch, and he was so absorbed into the memory of playing catch with his dad so, so long ago that he didn't notice Michael abandon the game and walk towards him until he was halfway there. Then Clay's mouth went dry. He didn't know what he was going to say.

When their eyes met, Michael quickened up the pace and there was no need for words. Clay opened his arms so Michael could leap in for a consuming hug.

 _ **"I thought it was you,"**_ Michael muttered, and Clay had to fight back the tears.

The two boys separate, and Clay's eyes grow heavy as he looks down at the only person in the world he felt he could trust. Michael looks back, his eyes also heavy, just a tint of that naivety gone, and stammers, "I - I'm so sorry."

Clay smirks and scoffs. "What'chu sorry for, Murph?"

"I - I - that night - the night at the train station - I wasn't - I didn't - " the more Michael spoke, the worse his stammering seemed to get, his bottom lip quivering and his eyes struggling to stay in focus.

Clay found himself fighting tears again. He didn't want to hear it and he didn't want to think about it. He pulls them back into another hug before they burst into sobs. _"Don't."_

Over Michael's shoulder, Clay caught a glimpse of the Father overseeing the game trying to keep the rest of the boys in check, telling them to leave Michael and his friend to 'their business'. And that's when John sought the opportunity to abandon his position as well to join them.

 

**To be continued.**


End file.
